


Warm Night

by Mintomatic



Series: Xanlow Week 2019 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, Other, it's a character/reader fic but the reader is also maybe laslow?, there's nothing that explicitly mentions or hints at it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 16:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintomatic/pseuds/Mintomatic
Summary: Zzz ~King Xander Takes Tea with You and Puts You to Bed~ *ASMR* Positive Affirmations





	Warm Night

**Author's Note:**

> character/reader insert as a genre has always been interesting to me and looked like a fun challenge, so i tried to put my own spin on it that wouldn't rely on the Y/N thing or having the reader think or do things they wouldn't. i tried to make it more like an RP where you can imagine your own responses between what happens, and it hopefully still fits together with the story. let me know what you think if you feel like it <3

The subterranean stone walls of Castle Krakenburg are as cold as ever, but a particularly chill night brings with it fresh candles in all the sconces, casting warm and fluttering light against the walls. The darkest of dark nights in Nohr is nearing, and a blizzard outside penetrates even this deep into the earth. It’s not so bad, though, to be hidden away in candlelit hallways sheltered from the wind and snow, a tray of hot tea in hand and good company in mind. 

Xander is still at his desk when you enter his study, poring over paperwork. The dark circles under his eyes are shockingly red on his pale skin, drawn long and deep by the candlelight. He doesn’t smile when he looks up and sees you, but he removes his reading glasses and his shoulders visibly relax. 

“I didn’t think I would see you this evening,” he says. He sounds strained and he looks at you as though your eyes hold the secret to an elusive full night’s rest. “Please, come in.”

You nod and greet him, setting his tea where he likes it – to his right on the desk, with the cup toward him and the pot’s handle facing your side, perfectly aligned to pour for him. “Thoughtful,” he muses, because although you’re no house-servant, he treasures the efforts you make to remember all the things that ease his stress in little ways. 

“Take tea with me, won’t you?”  _ That’s _ spontaneous, for Xander. “I insist,” he says, apparently worried over your moment of hesitation. 

“This…” He gestures to the papers spread over his desk, “it has to be completed tonight. We’ll be sending companies out first thing in the morning, weather permitting. And I pray that it does.” Xander stops there to rub the bridge of his nose, and continues more softly, “I’ve delegated where I can to speed the process. Villages in all directions have sent word, begging for aid. My people  _ will  _ survive this winter, even if I have to empty the castle’s food stores of all except our own necessities.”

He lifts his head again, gazing at you affectionately despite the stress he’s under. “You needn’t worry for the duty of a King, dear one; all I ask is that you stay with me for a while.”

Xander nods, a slight bow as he offers you his own teacup. Before you can protest, he retrieves a spare from his desk drawer, and it’s such a brilliant gold you can’t even argue that he ought to use the fresh cup instead. He glances your way anyway as he pours for himself, and that playful glint in his eye says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “You have my utmost gratitude for listening to me like this. I couldn’t possibly speak so openly to anyone but you.”

The fragrance of the tea spreads as you both drink. It’s light and almost fruity, so unlike Xander’s typical preference, and he chuckles at your expression. “I  _ did  _ say I wasn’t expecting you,” he reminds, “but I couldn’t keep my mind off of you, so I called for this tea. I admit it’s not seasonally appropriate, but something about the taste makes me think of your smile. …Ah, yes, just like that. Tea is a poor substitute for the real thing.” 

You stay seated across from him as he finishes his break and goes back to work, just you and the King of Nohr. You’ve known him for years now, been through the hell of war (and back) at his side, watched him ascend to the throne, and yet you’re still caught off-guard sometimes by how thorough the power is that exudes from him. He’s every bit as regal bent over his desk in reading glasses as he is with his chin held high, addressing his entire country, promising them peace. It makes you shiver with the awe you’d feel gazing from a mountaintop, or at the crescendo of some masterful symphony…

“Cold?” Xander asks. You’re  _ sure  _ he hasn’t looked your way in several minutes. You’ll never know how he manages such keen observation. “I understand; I prefer my quarters to stay cool, but I can’t expect the same of you.”

He rises from his chair, slipping his coat off and draping it over one arm. With his free hand he takes yours and drops to one knee before you, much more romantic than necessary, just to kiss your knuckles. His hand is broad and warm around yours, and his kiss all the warmer, yet he hums in concern. “It  _ is  _ still winter, my darling, even though we don’t feel it much here. I won’t have your lovely fingers freezing.” 

He presses your hands to his cheeks, one after the other, and sighs contentedly when you obligingly pet the sides of his face. He must’ve been clean-shaven this morning, but there are little prickles beginning along his jaw. “A bit longer,” he promises when he pulls away, sounding sleepier but less stressed. “I’m working much more steadily with you here. May I lend you my coat for now?”

He waits for your answer before draping it over you backwards, like a blanket. All of the sudden you’re feeling sleepier. Xander’s coat is warm and heavy, made of fine, soft wool with a silk brocade lining. It carries his body heat like a hug, and it smells just like him, from the deep, masculine scent of his cologne to the soap he uses, and underneath it all is just  _ Xander _ . 

He laughs softly when you yawn into the standing collar. “It’s getting late,” he says, like he isn’t crossing back around his desk to keep working regardless of the hour. 

“You look comfortable there, my dear.” You hadn’t noticed your eyes slipping shut, but when you open them you’re treated to a rare sight: Xander has his chin rested on his hand, daring to look not-quite-kingly as he grants you his fullest smile. It reaches his eyes, and the candlelight warms them further, like hot mugs of mulled wine on the winter solstice. 

“Get some rest. I’ll be right here.” And how can you deny him anything when he speaks with such fondness and sincerity? The smile shrinks, but stays on his face as he goes back to writing. It’s true that you try to stay awake, at least until Xander’s work is finished, but somewhere between the sound of his neat handwriting gliding across the pages and the way the light plays through his eyelashes, you slip away. 

You dream of silver threads in dark silk, somewhere warm and safe. Heat against your forehead; a soothing voice you can feel vibrating through you. Your warmth is removed, but quickly replaced when you’re set down on dark sheets. 

Xander curls behind you, pulling your body close against his. It’s a bit surprising he’d take you into his own bedroom rather than carry you to yours, which he’s done before. But this is certainly not unpleasant; he’d meant every word when he said he’d be right there

.

His broad chest swells against your back, then he exhales a long, exhausted sigh that tickles through your hair. “That’s done, then,” he whispers. “It will be alright… I hate that anyone is suffering inside Nohr’s border, but we’ll have aid out to them soon.” 

The way he’s muttering, you’re sure he’s talking to himself. It wouldn’t be like him to bring up such a somber topic more than once when he’s doing as much as he can to fix it. 

“Though it’s terrible of me to say this, I can’t help but think… no matter what happens out there, I have you here with me, where I can protect you… where I can be sure you’re always safe.” Xander nuzzles into your hair, stifling a yawn.

“That’s all I need; just you, my love…” No sooner does the last word leave his lips, than his breathing starts to even out. You know he’s fast asleep by his quiet snoring. He has to have been truly exhausted; normally he gives a halfhearted apology for the rambling he does when he thinks you’re asleep. 

No apology is ever necessary, of course, not when he bares his true feelings like this. There really will be less to worry so urgently about in the morning. Something tells you the blizzard outside won’t last til dawn, and by then all of Xander’s hard work will have been worth every bit of fuss and more. 

**Author's Note:**

> today's prompt was supposed to be firsts. uh, look, writing this kind of thing is a first for ME, okay? haha


End file.
